Datsun/Nissan’s missteps during the renaming era were many, from soft sports cars to shockingly conservative mainstream compacts, but the Maxima was a major success which captured the aspirations of the American middle class better than many of its Japanese contemporaries. It was a timely, unique expression of 1980s suburban values and, as this early 810 Maxima wagon shows, offered a compelling blend of practicality and flash rare among imported compacts of the period.

Though it shared its basic engine design with the Z-car, the most similar car to the early Maxima in concept was the Toyota Celica Supra. Just as Toyota stretched the Celica’s wheelbase to shoehorn in a straight-six, Nissan took the Japanese 910-series Bluebird and did the same, stuffing in some extra gadgets for good measure. And while the Celica Supra was uncomfortably soggy for a coupe, the Maxima’s similar nature still left it solidly average in the world of family cars. It was such a simple formula, but nonetheless effective.

Wagons like this one were unfortunately less common, but they offered an excellent solution for image conscious families. They were mechanically durable and with a well-located four-link live axle, not nearly as prone to any of the unpredictable oversteer common to soft, trailing-arm equipped, rear-drive Japanese luxury cars (how do you think drifting first became popular?). That this car is still plugging away after 35-ish years is no surprise; this is pre-Ghosn Nissan quality par excellence, and reflects a major aspect of the Maxima’s popularity. Yes, America, you can have a family friendly, upwardly mobile import for a good price, and it won’t be stripped like a Volvo, and it won’t be a quality disaster like an Audi.

Nissan also allowed buyers to ladle on options in a very American fashion. That so many were ordered loaded showed the nameplate’s cachet, which makes the current model’s lack of prestige that much more depressing (at least the Altima is finally moving in the volumes that Stanza could never manage). Occupants were treated to multi-adjustable seats, a bevy of power assists, button-tufted velour and switches galore. With the fussy markings describing the function of every knob and button, being inside the Maxima was like sitting in a living room and admiring one of the era’s equally snazzy and equally Japanese hi-fi systems; again, middle class living at its finest (at least on the coasts).

Truly, I’ll always remember these cars and their immediate front-drive successors as kings of convenience and value. These were cars people bought when their careers were on a solidly ascendant trajectory, and people remember their first Maxima in the same way they remember their first home or first piece of high-end electronics; it embodied middle class mobility, if not ultimate status. This is why the nameplate also engendered the sort of brand loyalty some other Nissan nameplates could not (except for the similarly appealing Z).

With 120 horsepower out of its destroked, 2.4 liter Z engine (complete with multi-point fuel injection), performance was quite good for a late Malaise-era cruiser, with sixty achieved under ten seconds when equipped with a five-speed, and a bit under twelve seconds with the automatic (a four-speed unit from 1983 on). Powertrain operation was silent in a way similarly upscale Audis, Saabs and Volvos couldn’t match, even though chassis dynamics were well behind the European competition. Underdamping, a lack of suspension travel, loose steering and a lightly-built structure quickly revealed themselves under duress. Up to date engineering at least kept it from being outright ponderous, but these were not the sports sedans that would define the Maxima in its best years. Even still, the early Maxima was a good foundation on which future iterations could build their reputation for another two decades.

Given the car’s mechanical heritage, a motivated owner could easily hop an 810 Maxima up to provide more modern get-up-and-go, as the 2.8 liter turbo six from the contemporary 280ZX turbo fits pretty easily. The car pictured here was so-modified, and looks the business with that modest drop.

The absence of other modifications allows the car’s appeal to show through. It’s actually quite a stately piece, with a fender-mounted power antenna, stand-up hood ornament, side mirrors mounted on stanchions, and lots of chrome trim. And as fussy as it is in its details, clean lines lend it a functional overall appearance. Decoration is abundant, yes, but the look is efficient. Those who really needed to reinforce the latter impression were offered a diesel, which found more buyers than one might’ve expected. There were certainly worse options, too, as Nissan’s diesel was a smooth, reliable straight-six unit, offering more power than the likes of the Quantum and a great value.

As popular as these cars were and ubiquitous as Maximas have become, early versions like our feature car (captured in New York’s brutal environment by William Stopford) reflect a very rare period in the history of the Japanese car. They were an expression of luxury with a distinctive American influence but a character all their own. They were not meant to compete with Europe’s finest, as later cars marketed through separate dealer networks would be. By the end of the 1980s, this sensibility would largely be absent from the automotive landscape. Parked at the curb, 35 years on, the 810 Maxima is a loveable piece of forgotten kitsch, and a very textbook example of the curbside classic.

29 Comments

I had been under the impression that the prevalence of well-loaded Maximas, at least in the States, reflected Nissan’s desire to make up for the voluntary import limits by focusing on per-unit profit margins. Of course, if consumers completely balked at the fully loaded price tags, these wouldn’t have sold, but fitting nearly every car built (or imported) with a bunch of nominally optional equipment is an old, old tactic.

I’ve always lamented the same thing; Carlos Ghosn saved the company financially, but lost Nissan’s top position in Japanese build quality and performance engineering. In the late ’80s through the late ’90s, Nissan made stylish and exciting vehicles that outperformed Honda and Toyota. The A32 Maxima and VQ30DE engine were probably the high water mark. Since roughly 2004 Nissan has only built ugly, boring cars.

…”They were an expression of luxury with a distinctive American influence”…

Without reading the article and seeing the other pictures I could have sworn that the brown 810 wagon was a 100% US design and product from the late seventies / early eighties.

I don’t remember ever seeing any big Japanese wagons, but the smaller ones from the eighties had a decent share of the market. Like the Nissan Bluebird (U11-series) below.

And if you wanted a bigger wagon back then it was mostly a Volvo 240, a Ford Granada or an Opel Rekord E. The typical big, Form Follows Function wagons. With thin pillars and a lot of glass all around.

Regarding the Ford Granada. Most of the wagons had a 4 cylinder with a manual and a basic interior. But in the early eighties this one came mighty close to the 810 Maxima wagon: a 150 hp Ford Granada Turnier
2.8i V6 Ghia automatic.

Ha! My parents bought their 1986 Maxima wagon when their careers finally took off. It was light years ahead of the GM cars they had owned. The Maxima was fast (150 hp) for the time, smooth and quiet, well equipped, and very comfortable. Plus, nothing fell off, rattled, shook, smoked, etc. I remember my dad realizing four years into owning the Maxima that he’d spent nothing for repairs thus far.. They loved that car and kept it for 15 years. Brand loyalty only goes so far, though: they only bought one more Nissan before losing interest.

I remember that these were quite expensive in their day. However the upper middle class buyers were happy to pay for Japanese reliability and American comfort that so rarely came in the same package back then. I was quite impressed with these wagons and they remained quite pricey as used cars.

I do. A little fussy but solid looking. Especially that modified wagon. And I love the Z straight six. I see some fixed up around here. Early Cressida is similar set up, and those are modded around here.

Roadholding shortcomings don’t matter much in a nation where Country Squires used to be common family transportation. Parents with kids in back are not going to press a car or SUV to its limits like German taxi drivers; passing power is probably most important, e.g. when stuck behind RVs in the Rockies.

I missed out on those gadget-laden Japanese cars until I got an Accord in ’88, and not even an LX.

Easier as far as rust is concerned, but they still use salt on the roads when it does snow down here – and everything else is a lot worse. Typical driving in and around the city is brutal on a car’s cooling system, brakes and suspension. I always think it’s funny when I see a car listed with “highway miles!” in a local classified ad… because that “highway” was undoubtedly the Long Island Expressway or one of the other 8 circles of automotive hell that lead into/out of Manhattan. I lived upstate for a few years and aside from the snow/rust, it was all wide, straight roads with little traffic.

These Maximas actually didn’t rust as bad as earlier Japanese cars, or even Hondas and Toyotas from the same era.

I looked down at these at the time because they were Japanese. My dad had an new Audi 5000 at the time, and I thought that was the $h!it. I was with him in a parking lot way back in the day , and him expressing admiration for a sedan version of the 810 Maxima, and I remember telling him to forget it, it was Japanese. The Audi was a nightmare, now I have a developed a grudging respect for these Bonsai Buicks.
I remember thinking what might happen if you could build a car like a high-end bicycle, where you choose your own components. Maybe if we took the Audi body shell and put the Nissan drivetrain and electrics in it, we might have something. Throw in Delco AC while you’re at it.

These were also available with a diesel engine. On a recent trip to Portland, I saw one of these slowly on the right lane, and I knew it was a diesel because of the black soot all over the rear end near the exhaust. Sure enough, and the driver was a classic Portland hipster, with requisite long beard (“Lumbersexual”). It’s much hipper than the ubiquitous Mercedes W123 diesel.

Oh my god I’m loving that gunmetal grey 810 Maxima wagon. If I had one (and a lot more talent, $$$ and time) it would look exactly like that, with the BBS-style wheels and 280ZX turbo and everything. That’s perfect!

The only thing I didn’t like about these cars were those stupid “pillow” velour seats. This is certainly a very conservatively styled car, but that was one Brougham affection that should have died with the ’70s. They’re also impossible to keep clean – as seen in the otherwise pristine turbo wagon, they look like they’ve been farted on 10,000 times.

Maximas may have been expensive when new, but they all ended up as trusty, working class beaters 20 years on. Since I was born around the same time as the featured car, that’s mostly how I remember them. Back when NYS printed mileage on the yearly inspection sticker, it wasn’t uncommon to walk by a trashed 810/Maxima and see a 6-digit number starting with 2 or 3 in dot-matrix print. Unlike the Toyota Cressida (which was the most similar car available in the U.S.) manual transmissions weren’t an impossibly rare find on the 810/Maxima either, and I can recall seeing at least a few of the diesels around. If I’m remembering correctly, this was the same diesel six that the IH Scout offered as an option in it’s final years.

I’ve never seen this particular car… must be a West-Sider. There’s another Malaise-era Datsun representing the East Side of Manhattan:

I was somewhat stunned when a co-worker of means went from a Mercedes to a first-generation Maxima sedan with stick @1983. Can’t say I was bowled over with the boxy styling but I was surprised when I rode in it for the first time: the luxe appointments of this fully optioned model were pretty impressive. Other than a cranky sunroof with a mind of its own, it was a very reliable car and not replaced until she bought a new fourth-generation 1995 Maxima. The wagons were not that common in SoCal, especially compared to what I recall as the better selling Cressida wagon.

I didn’t get a Maxima until 1999 but it was a gem and I still miss it. It is a shame that Nissan later lost its way with the Max – in terms of styling, engineering, and quality. From its introduction, the Infiniti G pretty much stole the Max’s thunder and that has continued right up to the present.

In 1987, my Dad was looking to replace his tired ’82 Country Squire with 100k on it, I suggested he look at the new Maxima and he did. He was going to get the wagon model but when the salesperson told him he could only get velour in the wagon, it was a deal breaker. He ended up with a charcoal grey GXE sedan with leather. He liked that car for the first two years that he had it, but as time went on I could tell he wanted something ‘bigger”. He bragged about the Maxima’s gas mileage and power, but hated the way it rode. He traded it for a 1990 Coupe deVille and loved driving that car right up until he passed in 1993.

As a former Maxima owner, that really takes the cake. I would have loved to drive one of these last RWD cars with the silky six…I had the MY2000 one (FWD) with the VQ engine that sang but had pretty nasty torque steer under hard acceleration.

That gunmetal-grey one is incredibly sweet. Shows that subtle mods are better than brash ones 9 times out of 10…

Nice cars overall though, and they do seem to last. There was a diesel that could be seen puttering around campus at NC State, owned by an employee, until probably 2010 or so. Maybe even later than that.